Were Jean-François and Manon the type to share the photos on social media? How intentionally had the image been framed? Or perhaps they’d send copies to family and friends, adorning fridges, evoking gentle jealousy in childless brothers, longing in faraway grandmas. There’d be one silly snap with the dog, too – just for fun! Oh, those Perfects.īut who were the pictures for, I wondered? Who was the target audience, the intended voyeur? Perhaps they’d hang their family portrait against the exposed brickwork of their living room – for their eyes only. Manon would pair natural fibres with statement jewellery Jean-François would rock his dad jumper and beard. The Perfects would melt into each other on their comfortable settee, cradling little Élodie between them, their mouths set in softly curved contentment (they were certainly not the type to smile big toothy grins). I didn’t see the photoshoot, but I could imagine the pictures. What? We’re just two single women in their 30s, semi-ironically spying on their happily coupled-up and breeding fellow citizens, as if Hitchcock had directed a hilarious episode of Sex And The City in which the ladies realised they were all definitely going to die alone. I asked her if she could take a photo of the photoshoot, but she couldn’t because that’s probably illegal, and anyway her camera lens wasn’t good enough. Once, Colleen texted to tell me that The Perfects were having a photoshoot in their living room. I knew that his name was not Jean-François. I’d heard Jean-François shout something to the guy who helped him baby-proof the balcony. Having caught snippets of their conversation on the breeze, Colleen informed me in a disappointed tone that The Perfects were Anglophones. It's as if Hitchcock had directed a hilarious episode of Sex And The City in which the ladies realised they'd die alone He put a railing around the second-floor balcony: little Élodie would not be falling off that any time soon. When the summer came, Jean-François started nesting like a mofo (which I suppose he had literally just become), using the evenings to turn the back garden – an actual garden! – into something grassy and rockeried and patioed that Manon gracefully watered in the mid-morning while he was at work. As a newborn, little Élodie did not yet have a job, but I thought she’d eventually be some kind of introverted science geek, given that she cried so rarely. Jean-François was a former creative and current executive at Ubisoft games company. I christened them The Perfects and gave them high-flying careers. On moving in, I may have escalated things. (OK, so I was the only one to reply to the ad but that just means fate was working her magic extra-hard.) Just a treacherously icy 20-minute walk south lived another brokenhearted woman in a suddenly too large apartment, whom Colleen – in her immaculate wisdom – would soon choose as a flatmate. She was lonely, and this seemingly perfect couple were a distraction. It was winter, when the intense cold here can isolate us from each other. Now she has put her account on private and I'm feeling she probably knows that I know about her account.Colleen first began to watch them after her ex moved out. Yet with how funky twitter/x is these days I'm not surprised it doesn't work the way it used to anymore. I thought it had redirected to the OP of the tweet when I clicked on it first. I get it, I have spaces like that too on the internet and want privacy aka this throwaway account instead of my other one.Įither way I slipped up and I reposted a tweet that she had reposted her self from a 3rd party. Maybe a little more private than she wants to discuss with family, we don't exactly share everything with each other. Things that aren't really secretive or like crazy. What is on her account is mostly TV/Movie show type stuff, fandoms and interests. I never followed her officially though, whole clicking the follow button and actually letting her know I was there. Either way I saw it and out of morbid curiosity I looked her up and been looking in here and there when I'm bored or further curious. Or she never thought I might look at her account. I think she might have not realized her twitter/x name was right there on the screenshot. I'm pretty sure my sister found out I was spying on her twitter/x account.įor context I found out her twitter/x screenname a few months ago from a screenshot she sent me of a post she was excited about, it was about some famous director/writer that had answered one of her questions about a show we mutually enjoy.
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